Drive
by Lacrow
Summary: Sometimes you've just got to clear your head. Which in his case, involves obliterating the speed limit.


**Disclaimer: **I do not own Soul Eater

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><p><strong>Drive<strong>

**by. **Lacrow

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><p>It didn't matter where he was going, or how he was getting there. All that mattered was he was on his way.<p>

Maybe some far off place that didn't even really exist, though in his head it could've been the moon for all he cared. For Soul, who had long since lost all thought to the pavement and the roar of his engine, the farther away the better. Away from all the stress that had been mounting on his shoulders for the past few weeks. Away from all the pressures of being an all powerful Death scythe. On his bike, the only thing he needed to worry about were the cars that came into sight every once in a while. Drivers were idiots enough on their own; god forbid they had to pay attention to a motorcycle at night.

That aside, he didn't have any qualms about speeding down the highway at night. Save for a few morons on the road, it was the perfect place to clear his head. Seventy, eight, even ninety miles an hour. Every increment in velocity getting him closer to that blank state of mind he so desperately craved in a sea of doubt and confusion. Maybe if he reached one hundred, he'd hit nirvana? The thought was tantalizing enough to try it for real, but quickly he thought against it as a cop car came into sight in front of him. His own metal beast slowed down, and the temptation left him for the moment.

He'd try it again later, though.

Because what else was he supposed to do?

Go back home to two women that made his life a living hell? One would smother him, the other would beat him. And was any of it his fault? Of course not. But every time he tried explaining it to _her,_ the one girl he thought he could actually trust to understand him, all she'd ever do was respond by slamming a dictionary to his forehead. How the hell could he help it if Blair was more friendly than any cat should _ever _be? It's not like he favored her or anything, in fact he tried his very best to avoid such encounters with their pet. Maka should know by now; after years of living together, he'd never tried anything with _anyone._

Except for maybe her. Not really. At least, not in the way she would've expected him to.

Soul revved his engine as the thoughts crept back into his head, despite all his efforts in the past hour to make them disappear for good. Again his bike picked up speed, the speedometer quickly working its way back up to the ninety mark. It was the only thing he could do to try and suppress those stupid, nagging, _uncool _thoughts from picking at his brain. Like how in all the time they've been together as partners, he'd always done things for Maka that a bookworm like her should've realized went far beyond what the job description called for. Feeding her when she was injured. Holding hands. Almost _dying _for her.

She was by far the stupidest smart person he had ever had the displeasure of knowing and if it weren't for his big mouth, that fact would've continued to remain a secret from her. Though as Soul's motorcycle started hitting that magic number of one hundred miles an hour, he quickly found that his memory was in fact getting _clearer _instead of disappearing outright. Maybe he shouldn't have told that to her face? Granted he was tired of Maka smashing literature against his forehead, but that didn't mean he wanted to hurt her feelings. In the end though, that's pretty much what he ended up doing.

He was an idiot; something he tried to forget by hitting the pavement. She took it completely the wrong way, and he couldn't blame her at all for being upset with him. So that was partly the reason why he wasn't so much upset at her as he was himself, the rest being that he couldn't come up with the words to say anything he wanted in any coherent fashion. Cool was cool and smart was smart, but Soul only had one these things in bulk. And though he wasn't stupid by any definition of the word, besides maybe ignorant, there was no way he could articulate himself the way _she _could. The dam English nerd.

The biker snuck a peak at his speedometer and nearly gave himself a heart-attack; one hundred and ten. How the hell did he space out that much? Immediately he left off the gas, thankful for the fact that he was the only one still on the road. Not that he really expected anyone else to be driving around at three in the morning. However, he didn't really think he'd be out this late either. When exactly did he and Maka get into that fight? Was it four hours ago, or five? Either way, he'd been driving around town all night, and just recently he'd had the balls to clean out the cobwebs from his exhaust pipe.

"The fuck do I do now?" he asked himself aloud, the wind slowing down around him as his bike slowed to a crawl on the shoulder lane.

When he finally stopped completely, Soul growled. He hopped off his bike without any thought was to what exactly he was doing, simply letting his body do whatever it wanted. And what it wanted at the moment was to throw something, namely a rock that he found right in front of his tire. Tossing it into the air before catching it, he chucked the little thing across the road and into the median. Disappearing in a sea of others just like it, Soul realized he had just thrown away his stress relief. And there weren't any other rocks around, so the only thing left for him to do was lean against his bike and seethe.

What exactly was he so pissed about? It was only a little fight between them. They'd had plenty like that before, and it sure as hell wasn't going to be the last one. That's how their relationship worked; they teased each other and called each other names, and occasionally gave each other a hard time. But no matter what happened they were always there for one another, and something as stupid a tiny spat like this would eventually be forgiven and forgotten. So why then did this fight, of the hundreds they'd had in the past, suddenly seem so important that he had to take time out to think about it?

Deep down he already knew the answer, it's just that he didn't want to admit it out loud. Actually, that in itself _was _the problem. He could tell himself all day that Maka was important to him, and that his life was just another tool for her to use if ever the opportunity presented itself. She could use him like the weapon he was, and at the end of it all he'd be perfectly content with that as long as she was safe. But when it came to telling _her _that, well, a cool guy like him just couldn't find the right words to express that. At least, not without sounding cold-hearted, which wouldn't really help his position much.

Which brought him back full circle to the question he had asked himself earlier; The fuck was he supposed to do? Hop on his bike, turn back around, drive all the way home, and tell her everything he had just told himself? How cliché would that be? Though even he had to admit, that sounded like the best option at the moment. There wasn't a single soul on the highway that night, and he was pretty sure that any more of his driving would land him a pretty hefty ticket. And Maka would probably be worried sick if he wasn't home soon. In fact, knowing her, she probably couldn't even go to sleep right now.

He cracked a grin at the thought of his meister staying up all night for him. How stupid could one woman get?

Soul heaved at the thought of having to admit all these things to her, but there was no backing out now. He'd made up his mind, and sealed his fate when he swung his leg over his bike and roared it back to life with the throttle. The road still empty in front of and behind him, he took off down the shoulder lane until merging back onto the highway. Eventually he'd find an exit and pull a turn around. Eventually.

But for the moment, for the last, few minutes that he had left to himself, Soul continued down the highway. Towards an imaginary place that he knew didn't exist, but kind of hoped was there nonetheless. It gave him a little hope, albeit it a false hope, that there'd still be a place for him if things never worked out between him and Maka. Though in the pit of his stomach, he knew that such a place was completely made up. Where he belonged was home. With her. And, unfortunately, that damn magical cat of theirs. Maka and Blair were all that he needed and of the two, his blonde haired, green eyed meister was the one he'd stick to faithfully until she kicked him out for whatever reason. Kind of like how she had done that night, though Soul could only crack a grin at the thought as he exited off the road.

Because it was funny how even _after_ she'd tossed him to the streets, he still found himself faithful to her no matter what.

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><p><strong>A.N.<strong>

This came about after an hour long drive to clear my head. That, and a mixed CD I made myself.

Inspiration sure can be weird sometimes lol


End file.
